


Fast Car

by Daegaer



Category: Good Omens - Gaiman & Pratchett, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angels, Anthropomorphic Personifications, Cars, Crossover, Demons, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-26
Updated: 2010-01-26
Packaged: 2017-10-06 17:28:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prussia is briefly impressed by British engineering.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fast Car

_Berlin, 1930._

 

"Awesome," Prussia breathed. "Awe. Some." He became vaguely aware that someone was watching him, possibly the owner of the very car he was breathing heavily on. He stood up nonchalantly. "The best cars aren't made in England," he said.

"Yeah?" the car's undoubted owner said.

He was wearing the very latest in protective driving gear, including a pair of smoked glass goggles to protect his eyes at high speeds. He looked - almost cool, Prussia magnanimously thought. Even if he was driving one of England's cars.

"This car drove from Cannes to London faster than the train could get from Cannes to Calais," the driver said. "My passenger bet a hundred pounds we could do it, and we did it with time to spare." He grinned. "He was a good sport - he paid the speeding ticket when the gendarmes put pressure on the British police."

Prussia tried to look like he didn't care. "Yeah, yeah. The best cars are all made by the Neue Automobil-Gesellschaft."

"Not Daimler-Benz? Not Porsche?" the man grinned.

"Oh, please."

"I wouldn't buy too much stock in them," the man said. "Give it another few years and they'll be gone."

Prussia glared at him. His industries were awesome, just like the rest of him. No way was his car company going under. He paused; there was something odd about this fellow, he thought. Something not quite - human. He concentrated, but the man didn't feel like a nation either.

"West," he called, "come over here for a minute, I want to impress you with my deductive powers."

"I'm a little busy," Germany said, trying to keep his prize Gutenberg bible out of _his_ interlocutor's hands. "Do you mind? I kept that safe all through the war!"

"I'll keep it safe all through the next one, dear boy," the importunate reader said.

Prussia frowned. There was something about the way Germany's new friend had immense snow-white wings and a halo that was tipping him off to a more than usually high level of oddness in Europe. He looked back at the Bentley's driver and scrutinized him carefully. There was the faintest smell, he thought, something that he remembered being much better at detecting in the old days. It smelled like - he thought about it. Heresy and devilry. Prussia smiled, his eyes glowing a much warmer shade of crimson as he thought about the good old days. He looked around; none of the neighbours seemed to be watching, and West would lecture him no matter what he did, so -

The driver gaped as Prussia pulled a large sword out of nowhere and was suddenly clad in full armour.

"Deus lo vult!" he screamed, charging forward.

"Mind the blessed paintwork!" the man shrieked, and jumped into the car and drove off at top speed.

Prussia chased him to the border, only stopping to make sure he was clothed in more modern attire before France could notice and laugh himself sick. He sauntered back to Berlin, laughing to himself.

Bloody foreign devils.


End file.
